I walked down the hall after I left his room with my mind swirling. It was exciting to have someone new to talk to, but I was more than a little upset that sleepwalking was what led me to him. I told him that I couldn't understand why it was happening, but deep down I knew. I knew. And it was not easy.
It was something I had been avoiding since childhood. Something I pushed away during adolescence. Something I denied when my faith sky-rocketed. It was sinful. Right? To look at others of the same sex as more than just friends and companions. It was not normal. Not accepted. I had spent my entire life trying to make others see me for who I was and not what I looked like. But did I even know who I was? There was a part of me deep down, so deep, that was attracted to men. But it was wrong, right?
The first time I was strongly attracted to another man I ran to my room and prayed. I prayed until I exhausted myself. I asked God why. Why was I feeling these emotions? If it was wrong, why was He putting me through this? Wasn't He putting me through enough by giving me the appearance I had? It was a test of my faith, I told myself. He was tempting me to see how I would come out in the end. But it was cruel. So cruel. So, oushed it down, denied it, hated it, hated myself. And a little, tiny, tiny part of me hated Him. Hated Him for giving me these emotions and telling me not to indulge in them, that they were wrong.
I fell even more deeply into my faith after that. If it was wrong, as the Bible and church say so adamantly, I would rid myself of those feelings if it cost me my last breath. And I got so good at denying, so good at pushing it away that I felt renewed. I had been...saved.
And then Jonothon Starsmore came into my life. When we were introduced, I remember feeling intrigued by him. We shook hands, said hellos. Then it happened. A thought was projected to me--unintentionally, I am sure--of his hands running down my bare chest seductively. It shocked me to no end. I pretended not to notice and had to hide the reaction of my body. It sparked a fire in me I thought I had long ago put out. I lusted after him (God help me, did I ever!) and could not get him out of my head after that. I fought with my feelings everyday afterwards, especially when I saw him.
I am assuming that this is where the sleepwalking comes in. I fought with myself every waking hour, but when I slept my subconscious took over, taking me to his room--the one place I go when I allow myself a couple seconds of fantasy. It was embarrassing to have been woken up in his room, but it could have been worse. I could have been groping him instead of just standing there.
*****************
I knocked on his door the next evening. My religion said I could not lust after him, but it did not say that I could not be his friend. After a moment, he opened it. His dark hair was rumpled, like he'd just woke up. He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt thay looked like it was two sizes too big for him and baggy black jeans. His big brown eyes were a little surprised, but he stepped aside to let me in.
*Kurt,* he said in that lovely deep voice. *I wasn't expectin' yer.* I smiled innocently and stepped into his room. He closed the door and I looked around. I hadn't really had the chance to last night. The sheets on his bed were--surprise--black and tossed around. He had several CD cases lying around on the floor, and the stereo was playing some kind of heavy, depressing music.
"Uh, vell, you offered to talk last night and zere vas some'zing I vanted to talk to you about." He nodded and went to his stereo.
*Yeah, okay.* He turned off the music, and I have to say I was a little glad. It was not bad but it was not my type of music. *Yer can sit on the bed, mate. Sorry it's a little messy in here,* he said as he smoothed the sheets out. I stood back and watched him, my eyes drifting down to his shapely bottom. I appreciated the view for a couple seconds, then realized what I was doing and quickly adverted my gaze. Heat spread up to my face, and for a rare instant I was glad I was fur-covered and blue so he could not see the evidence of my shame.
He turned back to me and gave a little nod and we both sat down. FOr a couple of seconds, silence hung heavy and awkward. "I vanted to explain last night--" I started. He held up his hand and his eyes crinkled in what must have been a smile.
*It's okay, mate, no explainations needed. I was actually grateful for the interruption from my usual downward loathing.* That stopped me. Is that what he does every night? Hate himself until sleep bestows mercy on him?
"Jono..." He seemed to realize he said the wrong thing. He looked away and fidgeted.
*Er, I mean, I wasn't sleeping anyway. Wot did yer wanner tell me about yer sleepwalking?* He changed the subject so fast, but I let it go. If he didn't want to talk about it now, that was fine. Maybe another day. I stared into his beautiful brown eyes and knew I wouldn't have the courage to confess my sins to him. Not today. *Kurt?*